


steady as you go

by fated_addiction



Category: GOT7, K-pop, KARA (Band), Real Person Fiction
Genre: Disbandment, F/M, Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 12:33:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5869741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fated_addiction/pseuds/fated_addiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Youngji goes radio silent for two weeks.</i> Jackson doesn't try to be the world's worst best friend. He's just clumsy. <strike>And a better boyfriend.</strike></p>
            </blockquote>





	steady as you go

Jackson has a problem. Not one of those first world problems. Because he has those too. With Mark stealing the last of his coffee this morning, his day feels likes it's been offset by bad decisions and stupidity. But that's not his problem.

Youngji goes radio silent for two weeks. In fact, that timeline is longer by a day or two. But because he's the best friend, he's given it to her honestly: it's been two weeks, too much silence, and fuck it, he's seriously worried about the girl. And that's not cool, bro.

He leaves her a total of three well-thought, well coordinated voicemails over the course of this time. He doesn't do silence well. It's not exactly one of his best traits. Anyone, well, _everyone_ will tell you that. But he calls her because that's what he's supposed to do as Heo Youngji's Very Best Friend For The Rest Of HER LIFE™ and there is nothing she can do about it.

"Look," he reasons the first time, "I am not above showing up at your dorm. Because I will. But because there's apparently a handbook on how to be a best friend, I am going to respect your space, Youngji." He sighs, shaking his head at Mark, who tries to communicate with his fingers that yo they TOTALLY have to go right now. "But I'm worried. Like legit. So... call me."

The second time, he's not so nice. Not that he can't be. But when you call your best friend for the second time, since she never answered you the first time, you're even more worried. In fact, Jackson is pretty sure that he can write the book about being worried.

" _Yah_ ," he hisses. "You have to pick up the phone. Or I will show up. And I will drag you outside into sunlight. Because you're probably hiding in your room."

He's angry and he doesn't know why because when he's worried about Youngji, it's like the whole world writes itself into this funk and he just wants to fight _everybody_ that hurts her, says something stupid and mean about her, or generally allows the universe to be even _slightly_ miserable for her.

The rumors actually break around the third time, where and which almost leads him to call Hara because that seems like the practical thing to do. He reads everything about the KARA disbandment. It's not true. We are renegotiating their contracts. It's not quite time to move on.

It's weird because it's sort of a revelation. Not a complete revelation, mind you. He's always sort of known that Youngji is that person, the person, and those feelings have never been misdirected. And you never really let yourself know that your person is _the_ person unless they stop talking to you. Or they're upset. Or a million other things that he'd rather not list. 

So he cracks. And it's terrible, _he's_ terrible. Because he sits there and reads each and every article he can find, refreshing the news page, worrying all his members to the point where JB hyung is like: "Yo. You gotta go and show up. And talk to her." Patting his head like he gets it or something.

The truth is somewhere in between that. It's not a bang. It's definitely not a whimper. But he knows how he feels about Youngji. It's the best worst kept secret that he has.

The third message is simple, just around the time the news breaks: "Get ready," he tells her. "I'm coming to get you."

 

 

 

 

 

She's waiting when he arrives at her parents' cafe. Just outside, in the alley by the employee entrance. She sits on a pair of steps, her elbows resting on her knees. She has her phone in her hand and he slides out of his car, waving goodbye to his manager, she squints in the sun and looks up.

"Yo," he calls, sweeping over to her. He fumbles for his wallet and sunglasses. "Have you eaten yet? Because I haven't I'm starving. And I want to go get your mom flowers because I haven't seen her in, like, forever. I know that's my fault --"

Youngji cuts him off, her mouth twisting. "Hi Jackson," she greets. She hides her eyes behind a pair of sunglasses. He frowns and she seems amused. "No," she counts on her fingers, "I haven't eaten. Yes, I'm hungry. Okay, we can go get my mom flowers. She'd like that too."

Jackson sighs.

He doesn't ask. Although he should, considering. He takes a step forward, reaching for her. His arm land on her shoulder and he jerks her forward, pressing her into his chest. His mouth lands over her hair and he breathes, sighing.

"I'm pissed at you," he mutters. His eyes squeeze shut. "You shouldn't be hiding in your room, you know."

"I haven't been." Her voice is soft, muffled. He feels her fingers twist in his shirt. "I've been busy. And they told me that I am not allowed to say anything."

He pulls back, looking at her. There are creases in the corner of her mouth. Some appear against her forehead, stretching into worry lines too. He frowns and brushes his fingers into her skin, smoothing them away lightly. Youngji sighs a little.

"I'm fine," she says too.

"You're a liar." He squints. Then he pulls at her hair, tugging at a few strands. "And you suck at it."

She shrugs. "I'm not exactly hiding."

He glares.

"I'm _not_ ," she insists, rubbing her eyes, and he can't tell if she's trying to avoid him or not. "I'm just tired," she says. "And a little upset. Actually, a lot upset. But there's nothing I can do."

Something in his chest clenches. He reaches for her again and she ducks, moving back towards the door. She pulls and locks it.

"Where are we going?" she asks, and the conversation is over, of course, because he's not exactly sure what to do with everything she's not giving him. She's better at getting things out of him.

"I don't know."

He flicks her forehead. Then he grabs her hand, tucking it into her arm.

"It doesn't matter," he adds. Because he's determined. He can't not think about it this way. She smiles though, kind of half-heartedly, but a smile is a smile and he's going to take what he can get.

The air is a little chilly and the weather is calling for snow. They start to walk. The corners of her mouth turning, just slightly, and when he catches her, she looks away, but only enough for him to see. Good, he thinks.

 

 

 

 

 

He ends up stopping -- abruptly -- at a flower shop on the way. It's incidental: fans recognize them both, they sign autographs, and really, for once, he just wants to have some time with her to figure out what's going on in her head because he. is. so. bad. at. _this_.

The flower shop is a small enough surprise when they walk in, color coded by roses, winter flowers, and the intensity of a fresh smell that reminds him of his mother and then Youngji, both who sort of push out this intense, startling longing that he always hates to admit to. It's always there.

"It smells good in here," she murmurs, next to him, then wanders ahead of him, her hand skimming some roses that they pass. She smiles again, turning to him. "Daisies," she tells him. "For my mom."

Jackson nods seriously. "I remember." Then he scoffs. "Who do you think I am?"

Youngji snorts, but she's still smiling. That's important, he thinks. He steps closer to her, sort of reaching but not reaching for her.

"Yah." She reaches for him instead. Not even thinking twice. Her hand presses against his chest and she gives him a little push. "You're being ridiculous." She steps back, turning into more flowers. She makes a little sound of delight, barely there, and then returns to being serious. "And I'm fine."

"You're so not," he argues. "I'm here to tell you that it's okay that you're not okay. No one is expecting you to."

" _I'm_ expecting me to," she retorts, taking a step further. He follows, trying to restore the rightful distance between them. Which, you know, is none. 

"You're crazy."

She pauses, then laughs a little, then stops herself. Her hand covers her mouth and she flushes. He follows her gaze to the owner, who merely smiles and waves to them. But he knows what Youngji is thinking -- they cannot see me like this.

"You're really crazy," he adds.

Youngji is flushed too. Embarrassed, probably. She tugs at her braid.

"Probably," she says quietly. Her voice is too small. 

Jackson takes another step forward, then one more, his hand closing around her wrist. He tugs lightly, nearly folding himself around her. It's probably going to be some sort of scandal and given how the news for his company is going, it is probably, like, the worst idea ever. But he's never really cared that much as it is.

His hand cups the back of her neck, his fingers folding against her hair. She looks up at him and his heart is beating fast, not strangely, maybe nervously, and he's not really thinking as much as he should.

"Talk to me," he says, voice surprisingly steady, and he watches her lashes lower as she closes her eyes. His mouth grazes her forehead. "I'm the one that's supposed to be strong for you, you know."

It's probably the worst thing to say to her right now, given the circumstances, especially the circumstances, but he's there, she's here, and he's totally forgotten about his mission to get flowers for her mother. He's almost there, nearly confessing because he's a romantic, only slightly, because she's the only one that really has given him some sense of home. He takes her in this way too, bright eyes, _wet_ eyes, an her mouth does this weird, little tremble just before she tries to sigh.

"It doesn't work like that," is what she says, and walks away.

Jackson is almost hysterical. Stares at her, standing there with the stupid roses that smell too much all of the sudden. She sort of blurs in the back of the shop, a figure by the freezer, picking at her braid. She looks too far away from him and hates that, hates that he hasn't fixed anything.

He's the worst, he decides.

 

 

 

 

 

The interview nearly kills him. It's totally stupid. He feels like such an idiot (more so because he let it end that way, they walked back with flowers for her mother and that was that) and it gets even worse when he watches the interview again, then one more time because Youngji is crying on television, probably hating that she's crying on television, and he doesn't know what to do with himself. Because, seriously, he just wants to punch people.

"This is an _intervention_!" Amber announces, Mark behind her, as they sort of break into his room. He glares and pouts as she gathers up his laptop and drops it on his bed. "Seriously, dude. What are you doing?" She waves her hands around. "Call her. Shape up."

"I did all those _things_!" he insists. Because he did. Except he was a total idiot and left their conversation like that.

Amber rolls her eyes, crashing on his floor. Her legs tuck underneath her. Her expression changes from amusement to something weird and zen-like, which sort of throws him off.

"Look," she says. "I could sit here and lecture you on the intricacies of what it means to be a girl group member, past-present-future- _whatever_. But I won't. I can only relate to her situation with what I've gone through."

She pauses, dramatically even, and Jackson waits for the big ah-ha moment from her because if any is going to figure it out and translate it for him, it's Amber.

"You're moping," she says, eyeing him. Amber turns to Mark. "He's moping," she informs him.

Mark nods seriously, arms crossed over his chest. He looks directly at Jackson. "You're moping," he informs him, in case he didn't hear the first time.

Jackson rolls his eyes.

Amber shakes her head too. "Look," she says. "You obviously like her. In fact, guess what -- the whole world knows that you and Youngji are destined to be together because who else would put up with --"

"Yah!" Jackson explains, then ducks when Amber shoves a pillow in his face.

She points her finger at him.

"Show up at her place again, don't make it awkward," she says. "And," she adds. "Just kiss her. Because that'll be the best kind of distraction."

It's not exactly the best idea, of course. It won't really hit him until later either. But he nods, if anything, because there's someone, here, offering a solution.

So he goes with it.

 

 

 

 

 

Jackson is not a planner. So he doesn't plan anything. He doesn't even get her flowers, even though all his members are like _you're insane_ for not getting Youngji anything and then suddenly make this about being a confession.

This is not a confession. He swears at that, makes it a mantra as he heads to her place, even more so when he waits for her in her parents' cafe because it's a safe spot and she should be back by eleven, says her mother, who basically feeds him coffee and pastries until Youngji comes back.

When she does, he almost misses her. She's a whirlwind of curls and flushed cheeks, bright, worried eyes, and a fixed smile that _almost_ falters when she sees him.

"Hi," she greets.

He frowns and grabs her hand. "I'll walk her home," he tells Youngji's mother. They're both waved off and that's fine, he decides. Because he's going to respect her space here and in front of her mother.

They walk silently outside of the coffee shop, her fingers laced tightly into his. It's not an odd sight, he keeps telling himself. He's ridiculously nervous though; there's a tightness in his heart.

Her parents' place isn't far from the coffee shop. They cut through a nearby park and he tucks her hand into his jacket pocket, nearly tripping her into him. He keeps squeezing her hand. Maybe for reassurance. Maybe not. But her hand is there, right there, and her palm remains flushed into his, her fingers twitching slightly.

Her front step is within view. Jackson finally sighs and stops.

"You're going to talk to me."

He turns, hovering over her.

"I'm serious," he adds. "I can't stand it. I can't stand the silence. I can't stand being worried about you."

" _Stop_ ," she snaps, turning her head. "No one said that you had to be."

"No," he snaps back, tugging her hand hard. She's forced to look at him. "Nope. You can't be mad at me either.

" _I am not mad at you, Wang Jackson!_ "

She just explodes, like really explodes, to the point where he's sort of taken at back because this isn't what he expected. He doesn't know what he _did_ expect from her or from pushing her.

"Everyone is waiting for me to say something," she says, rushes through. "And I don't know what to say. I don't know how to be upset at them because I shouldn't be upset at them -- how can I be mad at my eonnis for trying to do what's best for them. I don't feel abandoned. I'm just... I don't know."

She looks at him, wide-eyed and flushed, the pink of her cheeks spreading across her skin. Her hair spills into her eyes and he cups her face, pushing her gaze up to look at him because he doesn't know what else to do. His thumb slides along her lip.

"I'm just _scared_ ," she says softly. And then she's crying, really crying, and he feels like he's about to lose it too. "And confused," she admits. "I'm trying to do the best that I can and I just can't handle anyone asking me if I'm okay. I can't. I know it all comes from a good place but --"

He is going to do something stupid.

He doesn't know what he says. His mouth starts moving. Words come out. She even looks at him like he's lost it, which is probably more normal than anything else. He wants to tell her that she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He wants to tell her that it's going to be okay too because she's a fighter, he's seen her fight, and there is no way that he's going to leave her alone. Because it's not what he does.

But he still kisses her.

"Jackson," she mumbles, slurs, and then her mouth is just as sticky and as hot as he's thought it to be. She makes a soft sound and he swallows it, his fingers slipping into her hair and pulling her closer because he suddenly, blatantly, needs to have her as close as possible. It doesn't feel like a first time, but it feels necessary, just necessary.

He pulls back then, tastes her lip gloss, and then wraps around her shoulders to kiss her forehead, just to hold her a little longer.

"Don't forget," he tells her. "I'm your biggest friend." He pumps his fist. "So cheer up. Fighting. Or I'll kiss you again."

He feels ridiculous. Maybe a little more than usual until she smiles, actually, smiles, full and surprising, a flash of her dimples and teeth.

"You're my biggest fan," she corrects, then laughs, giggles, and snorts into his shoulder. It's a quick, bright turn. "You're my biggest fan," she says and it's perfect, stupidly perfect enough for him to feel like he's just given her his biggest confession and she said _yes_.

It's the best kind of revelation and even that, there, is a little too dramatic for him.

Simply put, it's all he wanted to hear.


End file.
